


Whiskey and Tea

by Ladyofwarandmercy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyofwarandmercy/pseuds/Ladyofwarandmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye has been coping imperfectly with having shot Donnie Gill, and has been hitting the bottle. Maybe she's finally ready to talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey and Tea

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Agents of SHIELD, Marvel, or Bushmills Whiskey. I'd be richer and happier if I did.

_Skye stood above the HYDRA team, and watched the Asian man order Donnie Gill to freeze the ship. Skye knew May and Lance were still in there, in the way. She calmed herself, looked down the scope, measured twice, shot once. Gill jerked and fell overboard. But as it happened, time slowed to a crawl. Suddenly Donnie Gill looked up at her, and it wasn’t Donnie Gill anymore. In the voice she heard when Mike stopped Grant’s heart, Grant Ward rasped, “Skye, I love you.” He gave her a beatific smile, and fell. Without remembering how, Skye was at the ship’s railing, watching Grant fall limply to the ice below, Skye’s bullet having pierced his heart. He fell into a bloody mess as Skye began to scream. She felt icy fingers on her shoulders, looked up at Donnie, who regarded her with a wolfish grin. “We always hurt the ones we love!”_

Skye sat bolt upright in her bunk, the air conditioning blowing on her sweat-soaked shoulders containing the icy traces of Gill’s touch in her nightmare. Skye looked at her heart monitor (90) and the time (2:15). She had gotten a whole hour of sleep tonight. It was actually an improvement. But Skye needed a couple of whiskies on the rocks before she was going to get any more sleep tonight. So she threw a hoodie on over her pajamas, and made her way to the bar in the Commons area. She found the bottle behind the others. It was one that was on the Bus, and miraculously survived all the recent troubles, so Skye had brought it in to the bar at the Playground. As she poured her first glass, she noticed it was now less than half-full. It was ¾ full the night after she shot Donnie Gill. There was something comforting about its flavor and scent, so it was Skye’s preferred nightcap when she could not sleep. 

She turned the bottle around to look at its label, and saw the remnants of the price tag. Considering at this point Skye was working for room and board, it was unlikely she would be able to afford another bottle any time soon. “Sandy bottoms buys the next bottle.” The unsolicited statement almost made Skye drop the bottle. So she gave the speaker that extra bit of side-eye, which Grant mockingly threw back at her. “I’ve been wondering who has been in my Bushmills. I’m glad it’s you, Skye.” Skye fumed. She thought she had found the whiskey comforting on its own terms, and quite forgotten that it smelled like Grant. Even if Grant had earned his freedom, Skye was still too angry with him to let him back in her heart. Okay, deeper in her heart than he had already burrowed. “Well, Grant, how do you know I won’t just brew some tea and mix it in there so _you_ get sandy bottoms?” Unexpectedly, Grant flinched. “Please don’t do that, Skye. I would have to throw the whole thing out.” Skye looked at Grant incredulously. “At that price, you’d throw a bottle of Bushmills out for a little tea?” Grant looked uncomfortable, poured himself a glass, and took Skye’s hand. “I promised I would always tell you the truth, even if you don’t want to hear it. So here goes: When I was eleven, I would occasionally raid my father’s liquor. I found I liked the whiskey. The week before my twelfth birthday, I realized I was taking a noticeable amount of the whiskey, so I brewed some tea and put it in there. The night of my twelfth birthday, my father made me drink the entire bottle, and hold it until I puked. I almost died of alcohol poisoning. The doctor who called Children’s Services was fired and blackballed from jobs throughout the Northeast. So I really, really don’t like the taste of whiskey and tea together, okay?” Skye nodded, in a state of shock. She didn’t know what to say for a few minutes. Times like this brought home the neglect and casual cruelty that characterized Grant Ward’s life before they had met. Involuntarily, Skye started to sniffle. Dammit, she wasn’t going to cry in front of Grant, late hour and whiskey buzz or not! But something about Grant’s confession about the tea elicited a desire to open up. In a blur, Skye talked about the shooting of Donnie Gill, her nightmares (carefully forgetting to tell Grant his role in them), and her late-night drinking habit. She punctuated her monologue with, “How do you deal with it? Does it ever go away?”

Grant responded by taking her other hand and looking in her eyes. “If you are wondering what May is doing to help you cope, I will have you know she was the one pointing out to me the disappearance of my Bushmills. If I were still your SO, I would probably be palming you off on Jemma or Trip, or May, or someone who was not your SO. It’s a matter of professional boundaries. Don’t think she is ignoring you and your feelings. You are the one who has to live with what you did, and she has been watching how you cope. Now, you are ready to open up to someone else. I’m glad I was that someone else. So let’s talk about it: The guilt, I am sorry to say, doesn’t really go away. But you cope. Let’s walk through everything that happened. Think of other ways it could have gone, even if they are silly and unrealistic. In fact, you will probably find those other choices to _be_ silly and unrealistic. Sometimes, there aren’t any good options. Killing is wrong. So is allowing someone to live to kill more innocents…”

The night ended with a warm hug, Grant kissing her on the top of her head, and sending her to her bunk. Skye finally had the best night’s sleep she had had in a while.


End file.
